I found the house I was abused in on Google Earth. Tim Ritter's House The perp no longer lives there. It all looks so innocent from the satellite view. Just an ordinary house. No one knows what went on inside. I had hoped to find that it had burned down, but no. It still stands.

Forty-two years ago but I remember the room clearly. Candles. Black light posters on the walls. Smoke filling the air and the sweet smell of pot. There was a small low table with a couple of pipes on it, some rolling papers, and a bong. We sat on the floor smoking. His bed was just a mattress on the floor. There was a stack of Playboy magazines by the bed. Dirty clothes were thrown around the floor. The other boys left, but I stayed. I was so thrilled that he liked me, shared his pot with me, let me hang out with him. If only I had known what he had in mind. If only I hadn't been so eager to get high, and have his attention. LOOK AT IT. Tim Ritter's House Its the place my childhood ended. Its where I learned to hate myself. Where I learned not to trust anyone. Its where I became this empty shell of a person. God help me, but I wish I could kill him. Torture him for all he took from me. There's no justice. No justice at all.

I did look at the house Jude,But I saw something much different than you. I'm certain that I saw you running away from there into the trees. Actually jumping and ducking and diving. Looked like you had a B-B gun rifle in your hand and rope for lassoing some wild animal. Sorry but you looked very, very unaffected by anything that tried to hold you hostage there. I think I even saw you swinging from the trees as you rode high above the alligators and devils. I'm sure you even plinked one right between the eyes as you laughed and sped away. Where did you go? Where did you go? You took off so fast! Are you up at the corner store drinking a grape soda? Whew! Wow! Ok man, catch up with you later, gotta do my paper route. I'll meet you at the fort @ 4:00 we'll catch bullfrogs. see ya, Deweyp.s. keep your gun close!

Jude your pain is electric; I never knew, could never admit I hated my father; hell I never realized I hated him worse than my rapist. He knew of my abuse at the hands of his father, he cared more about the fact that a 4 year old could question god; then I was raped by his father, eventually he turned his back, even ensuring I was left at home with him, punishment of god I guess. The last time I was 7 and he came to visit, and sure enough! He was dead within a year, and I was his pallbearer alongside my dad. In my late teens my dad tried to establish a relationship with me but it could never happen, my dad had to be dead for 5 years before I could even say I hated him, and at that point my anger was gone, all over, and then when I remembered the abuse it all made sense the 40 plus years of hate. The thing is I know all too well your feelings of hate and homicide towards both my father and grandfather along with the whole fucking family, if I would have remembered any of this while my dad was alive I would’ve kicked that cancer sufferer’s ass so hard the chemo would have been pleasant compared! The hardest thing here is trust, you trusted your perp, you were a young kid, it wasn’t your fault, you trusted he broke it! You feel like such a sucker, how could you be so stupid? Look we live in male gendered society where we are weak or worse girls because we weren’t tough enough or strong enough, or our cock isn’t big enough to meet their expectations of us; then drop csa on a young boy, what are you supposed to do? What are you supposed to say? More importantly what are you supposed to feel and think? Let it go! Let it go! Let it go!Good Luck!!!Cee

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"it has never yet been discovered how to make man unknow his knowledge, or unthink his thoughts"

I know just how you feel man. I am currently unemployed and living at home in a place I was abused a few times and next door to the place where I was continuously abused for three years. I could not agree with you more. New people live there but I remember going to one of their open house parties a long while back (before recovery began) and standing at the top of the stairs a little while before going down. Everything had been renovated but the memories were still vivid even underneath all of the repression.

I actually fantasize about winning the lottery and buying out the owners so I can tear the place down a la Forrest Gump and put some sort of monument up for our brothers and sisters.

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"Life is like this dark tunnel. You may not always see the light at the end of the tunnel, but if you keep moving, you will come to a better place." ~ General Iroh

i went back once to the house where it all started. we drove past it several times. it was before i revealed what had happened there to my wife. our kids were in the car and she was all excited - "Look: that's where your daddy lived when he was a little boy!" it was weird - they were so happy and i was aching and trying to act normal. it was - of course - much smaller - and more innocuous - than i remembered it. it just doesn't seem right that something that was so huge in your history can look so insignificant...

lee

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"Tell your heart that the fear of suffering is worse than the suffering itself... And that no heart has ever suffered when it goes in search of its dreams, because every second of the search is a second's encounter with God and with eternity." - Paulo Coelho

There aren't enough rocks and all houses should be made of glass, then maybe perps would think twice before they do harm!

I am trying to understand/get over a recent incident in my life. My father, after telling me not to call or email him, he recently called me (over a year had gone by since we last spoke) and asked me to reminisce with him about the good times we had in our house. I told him "No thanks, I barely remember the good times, but I do remember the horrific abuses that occurred there after you skipped out and refused to pay any child support (even though he could afford to) thus resulting in my mother renting out rooms to perps (she didn't know, but she was no angel herself)so I'd rather not think about that house, ever again"

He still insisted, so I played along for a few sentences, but I won't soon forget his insensitivity.

I don't often post and I'm sorry for shitting on your thread, but who woulda thunk a thread about a house would (trigger) piss me off so much!

I've been staring at his house all week...trying to make sense of it....remembering things....like how he used to take us into the woods behind his house and smoke pot with us....and he would wear cutoff jeans with no underwear so his dick would hang out the leg hole.......like how we used to skateboard on the street in front of his house....like how he used to expose himself to us kids when we were playing in the street......somehow that only made us laugh.....it never occured to us something was seriously wrong here.

And I remembered details of the abuse itself...the taste...the smell...disgusting things I won't go into here....but I have to remember it all. I have to own it all. Every fucking detail has to be crystal clear. I can't let it be like a faint ghost haunting me anymore. I can't run from it anymore. It has to be real for me to deal with it. I can see that house...its real...he's real....and it brings it all back.

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I will remember youWill you remember me?Don't let your life pass you byWeep not for the memoriesSarah McLachlan

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